


Butterscotch

by Ladderofyears



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Belching and Burps, Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Belly-Button Kink, Blow Jobs, Chubby Harry, Dirty Talk, Feeder Draco Malfoy, Hand Feeding, Happy Ending, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mild Media Fat Shaming, Safeword Use, So Much In Love, Teasing, belly stuffing, button-popping, fat admiration, feederism, lots of consent discussion, tight clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 01:35:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20267872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladderofyears/pseuds/Ladderofyears
Summary: It was no secret between the two men that Draco loved to see Harry overladen and engorged with treats. He loved to see Harry swollen, full and hardly fit to move.This was a feast for all the senses and one which both men luxuriated in as often as they could, and the best part was that Harry never seemed to want to stop. Draco watched as his lover ate and ate, challenging himself to further excess with every session. Even when Harry’s eyes were screwed shut, his breath laboured and his body sheened with sweat Harry still wanted to take that one last mouthful.A story where Draco feeds his Harry so full of dessert and treats that he can barely stand, and Harry adores every moment.**This is a kink/fetish fic which focuses on weight gain and larger bodies. If that's not your think then please do skip this. If not, then I hope you love it **





	Butterscotch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vorkrunne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vorkrunne/gifts).

> For Vorkrunne, who inspired me with talk about cookies and rich, opulent puddings.

Draco knew there was nothing in the whole wizarding world that Harry loved more than desserts and the richer, more opulent they were the better. 

His lover was a man that had known real deprivation as a child. No love had ever been offered to Harry, and so he wasn’t deemed worthy of being given anything sweet or delicious. As a teenager Harry had survived on the meagre rations that Hogwarts considered _character building_. There’d been no biscuits, chocolate or sweeties owl-delivered from home for him, no secret treats to scoff during midnight feasts.

Draco knew that even in Auror training an emphasis on _weight_ had consumed his beloveds anxious thoughts. Sugary, creamy delicacies had been rejected in favour of lean chicken, salad and citrus fruit, and weight-ins were mandatory each month. Any trainees that were considered too chubby were put on humiliating public diets. 

But Draco also knew that Harry’s famished childhood, ravenous schooldays and hungry Auror training were a thing of the past. On the very first night Harry and he had lived together Draco had presented Harry with a Butterscotch Sticky Bun, and the other man's face had transformed in ecstatic delight. Harry had beheld the pudding in his hand, viewing it from every angle as if it were one of Gringott’s finest treasures. 

“For me?” Harry had asked, lines creasing his forehead. “I don’t normally let myself eat dessert. Got to admit, I don’t have much control when it comes to the sweet stuff, Draco. Once I start, well… It tends to disappear rather quickly.”

Draco had frowned. He’d never been a man to deny himself anything. It saddened him to think about his darling Harry never let letting himself really enjoy his food. 

“I _insist_,” Draco had urged, pushing the whole box of Buns towards Harry. “I like to see a man indulge themselves. Eat as many as you wish. A few extra pounds wouldn’t put me off you, Harry. I can assure you of that.” 

Draco had paused for a beat before he dared finish his sentence. “A bit of extra weight would suit you Harry. Make you look loved. Cared for. But only if you wanted to. I don’t want to push you into anything...”

Draco’s voice had trailed off into silence as he’d met Harry’s wide eyed regard. There was an intensity to his boyfriends features, a tightness he’d never witnessed before. 

“And you’d like that Draco? Get _off_ on that? Because I can warn you now-” Harry broke off, taking a large bite of the Bun. 

He bit and swallowed the mouthful quickly, speaking his next words though greasy lips. “-I can warn you now that I’m not a man that can commit to half measures… I’ve never been a one-slice man. I always have to eat the whole cake.”

Draco had nodded, nearly faint with excitement at his lover’s rapturous agreement. He’d watched as Harry’s eyes had glazed over in nearly orgasmic joy while he gobbled the bun down in record time. A second Bun had vanished equally quickly and Harry’s rapturous moans as he’d chewed and consumed really rather equalled anything that Draco had been able to manage in their bedroom. 

Not that Draco cared. This was the most titillating viewing he’d ever had the privilege of enjoying, better than any porno-Pensive or dirty magazine. 

Draco hadn’t been able to peel his eyes from Harry as he stuffed the last of the Buns into his mouth. The messy git was liberally coated in sugar, cream and sticky toffee, and Draco’s cock filled and hardened in his pants as Harry licked each of his fingers clean in turn. 

In twenty-four years of life Draco hadn’t yet seen a sight more seductive than this Harry, so swollen and resplendent. His hair was disarranged and mussy and his eyes lazy with sheer gluttony. 

And so, that very same night Draco had given Harry an orgasm so powerful that the bespectacled boy had almost forgotten his name. 

As Harry and he had spooned their sweaty bodies together afterwards, the aftershock of his climax still coursing though his body, the scent of butterscotch had seemed to cling still to Harry’s skin. It had been intimate and erotic; a revelation for both men. Their course had been set, and Harry had started gaining in earnest. 

That night had been ten months, and nearly a _hundred_ heavy pounds ago. 

Since then, those S’mores, Meringue Cakes, and Truffle Layer Puddings that Harry so adored had become both part of their decadent games and Harry’s daily diet. Harry, safe in the knowledge that he was truly loved for himself and sincerely desired whatever his scales read, began to use his weight to tease and torment Draco.

There was nothing like a stuffing session to break Draco’s composure and drive him nearly blind with lust. As the months had passed, Harry’s appetite- _always_ healthy- had grown rapacious. The man would eat anything that Draco served him, asking shamelessly for seconds and thirds whenever the mood took him. 

A favourite dish was the Salted Caramel Pie that the elves excelled at: the whole upper layer was made of thick, whipped cream. One night Harry steadily ate through slice after slice until the moment his trousers simply refused to meet any longer. 

It seemed that with every day that passed the elves needed to make bigger quantities of food, and Harry would joyfully plough through every crumb. Draco often saw him sneaking to the Manor kitchens, stealing treats and piling his plate high.

The covetous excess of the man was almost scandalous, and Draco couldn’t help but feed the greedy glutton whatever he desired or craved. Draco knew he was a terrible enabler, a dreadful encourager but Harry’s face was so bright and cheerful whenever they indulged their kink that it was worth it. 

It was no secret between the two men that Draco loved to see Harry overladen and engorged with treats. There was no better sight than Harry swollen, full and hardly fit to move. 

Draco loved the pink flush of his lover’s cheeks: so different from those Auror nights where his face had been pale and drawn, dark rings circling his eyes. He loved the uncontrollable groans and moans that escaped Harry’s mouth whenever his tight drum of a belly was jostled. Best of all, Draco loved the gurgles and babbles of a stomach fighting to digest its great load; loved the hiccups and belches that rose unbidden from Harry’s throat. 

This was a _feast_ for all the senses and one which both men luxuriated in as often as they could, and the best part was that Harry never seemed to want to stop. Draco watched as his lover ate and ate, challenging himself to further excess with every session. Even when Harry’s eyes were screwed shut, his breath laboured and his body sheened with sweat Harry still wanted to take that one last mouthful. 

And of course, as the weeks and months had passed Harry’s body had visibly changed and swelled. It grew round-bellied, soft and heavy. He was no longer that same fit, svelte Auror that had left the service so many months before. 

Instead, Harry’s cheeks and chin had filled out, and he sported a round, full paunch that Draco observed pressed enticingly against his shirts. Harry’s belly was wide, warm and wobbly and led the way wherever his boyfriend chose to go. Constant fillings meant Harry’s ample tank of a tummy was well practised in putting away more food than Draco had thought possible, and with each stuffing session it seemed to grow even broader.

Harry’s backside had filled out into two small, plump, jiggly globes that spread when he sat down. His thighs had out thickened nicely too, and his pecs had softened and spread. They were still pert, but Draco thought they’d be resting on that belly before a few more months had passed. Soft rolls patterned Harry’s sides and a beautiful new chin adorned his face. 

Even the way that Harry moved around was more languorous than before, as if the weight had settled his lover into a slower state of being. Sometimes Draco thrilled to see Harry bump his wide behind on an unexpected door-frame or catch his new belly on the edge of a table. Harry was adjusting to a life as a big, chubby man, and genuinely seemed to be enjoying every sensual dessert-stuffed day. 

Harry, Draco had come to realise, had been telling the truth that first night when he gouged on that first Sticky Bun with such joy. Harry had committed wholeheartedly to his temptation, to his _pleasure_ with total abandon, and not a single thought for the consequences.

Harry was a bloody risk-taker; a stubborn Gryffindor with little thought to any limits that he might not want to push through. Draco had to admit: he did worry occasionally about his feedee’s lack of boundaries. He didn’t want him to actually become ill. 

So when Harry had tipped the scales at 270 pounds, Draco had felt the need to sit Harry down to chose a safe-word. 

He’d assured his lover that their fun could halt immediately if Harry ever felt too close to the edge, or at risk of getting carried away. In truth, Draco wouldn’t have minded if Harry had chosen to slow down his gaining journey. He already worshipped Harry utterly, body and soul, safe in the knowledge that his boyfriend was the most beautiful, most voluptuous man in the world. 

Together, they chose _Butterscotch_, in honour of that first, sensuous feed so many months before. That first sweet pudding that had begun their luscious journey of excess. 

But Harry hadn’t yet seen fit to use it. 

~@~

Draco had been having a miserable bloody day until Harry’s owl arrived. 

Every customer in his Apothecary had seemed difficult, surly or aggressive. There’d even been some muttered comments about _Death Eaters_ and_ imperious curses_ that had made his hackles rise, but Draco had known he was powerless to evict the rude arseholes.

Draco’s Dark Mark meant that he was only ever accepted on sufferance by wizarding society. The hypocritical masses still trooped though his doors though: _Malfoy’s Apothecary_ was the finest potions establishment in wizarding England. 

And during his dinner hour, Draco’s day had just gotten worse. 

His apprentice arrived with Draco’s usual sandwich and a copy of the _Prophet_ for him to read. Draco hated the rag, considering it the worst tabloid nonsense, but he’d never forgotten his father’s words on the subject: know your enemy. The cover had sported salacious lies about Harry and himself, alleging that Draco was controlling their Saviour. It even said that Draco was using love potions to keep Harry all to himself. 

Rita Skeeter didn’t quite dare to mention Harry’s abundant new physique, but she concluded the article by asking _if Harry Potter were to look in the mirror would he even recognise himself?_ The words were bitchy, sly and shaming. Draco was livid, bloodless with anger. He screwed up the paper, casting an _Incendio_ to make it burst into flame in front of his eyes. 

But then, less than an hour later, Draco’s day suddenly got rather a lot better. 

Osiris, their private owl arrived, baring a note that Harry had marked strictly private:

**“Draco- **

**What Skeeter doesn’t, and couldn’t ever understand is the man I see when I look in the mirror is the person I _truly_ am. You see me, Draco. The way that nobody else has. See my vulnerabilities, see my very soul. **

**Every inch, every pound feels like love. Feels like care. Pleasure. Trust. Here’s what Skeeter will never understand: this body is my choice. My weight centres me; grounds me to the Earth. Makes me feel safe in a way I never have before. **

**You’re the very first person in my life that's wanted me unconditionally. The first person whose made me feel like I was actually worth something. **

**And I fucking love you, Draco. **

**So, in honour of the bloody Prophet (and a confession that was sorely overdue) can I please request your presence after straight after work to celebrate? I find I'm in the mood for a little celebration. I appear to have ordered every pudding on Diagon Alley. It’d be a terrible pity to have to eat them all alone…**

**HP**. 

~@~

Harry was lounging on the settee when Draco flooed though the fireplace, his face a picture of self-satisfaction and contentment. 

Sitting around his beloved were several large boxes from _Devilishly Decadent_, the most opulent of all the Elven bakeries in the wizarding quarter. They were rumoured to enchant their ingredients to taste sweeter and more delicious than any other establishment. At least twenty or so of Harry’s handsome new pounds were testimony to the truthfulness of that very fact. 

Draco could see a good slice of the Chocolate Custard Cake was was already missing, and the there was an empty, crumbly plate beside his boyfriend. Draco bit his lip.

That greedy git hadn’t even waited for him before he’d started scoffing. 

_Merlin_, Draco admired. He nearly groaned aloud with the thought of the calorific debauchery to come: _Harry’s appetite was very nearly insatiable_. 

For a moment Draco contented himself with just looking at his chubby, spoilt beauty. Harry had dressed for their _little_ celebration by wearing clothes that were indeed on the much smaller side. The light blue shirt was skin-tight, and Harry’s arms and shoulders were packed in without a millimetre of wiggle room. He’d only been able to do up four buttons across his ribs so his belly poked out, a round orb coated with a fuzz of dark hair. 

Belly fat flubbed thick and heavy over his waist band, filling Harry’s lap. Draco noticed with a thrill that Harry’s trouser buttons weren't even close to meeting either. The podgy wizard looked quite ready to split a seam and Draco bet all the galleons in his vault that those denims had been _Engorgio’d_ far larger than they’d ever been designed. 

Looking up, Harry noticed Draco loitering in the doorway, and he flashed him a rather knowing smirk. He slowly dragged a fingertip slowing down the broad, elegant curve of his belly and winked, rolling his hips for his boyfriend. Draco swallowed, already half-hard at the sight before his eyes. 

His lover looked absolutely fantastic, preening and perfect for Draco.

“Salazar,” Draco rumbled, his face warming. “What a bloody _tease_ you are Potter… Haven’t seen those trousers for a while. I hate to tell you love, but you’ve gained a few dozen pounds since they fit. A little bird told me today that somebodies been looking after you. Think they might be doing a little too well...”

Harry just grinned, and slid his hand down to press and squeeze at his belly. Draco inhaled sharply as his lover dipped a finger into his bellybutton, slowly testing the depth and heft of his chub. Seemingly satisfied, Harry looked up at Draco, tugging the hem of his shirt.

“Think you might be right. I thought I’d dress up. See if the old clothes still fit.” 

There was a gruffness to Harry’s voice that made Draco’s skin ripple into goosebumps. Harry hefted himself up from the settee, and sauntered over to Draco, flirtatious and slowly.

Draco chuckled, touching a light finger over shirt buttons that arched dangerously under the strain. They seemed a moment from failing completely. Draco took in the constricting trousers, and squeezed gently at the bountiful rolls of fat that flowed over their waistband. 

“Ah,” Draco hummed, enthralled. He tried to curve a finger under the waistband but failed. They were tight enough to be _painful_. “Doesn’t look like it, does it? Hate to break it to you Harry. Don’t think we can let these out any further-”

Harry grinned at that, wrapping his arms around Draco, and pulling him close. Harry’s jiggling tummy was a warm presence between them, soft and enticing. Draco’s breath caught at the sensation, making Harry laugh.

His cheeky arse boyfriend eagerly pressed home his advantage, squashing his belly against the him. Draco kissed Harry deeply, fervently. As their mouths met, the entire rest of his world- lying articles, long days and rude customers- all faded into utter insignificance. All that mattered was the man in his arms. 

Their kiss was sultry, heated: true magic. Harry’s tongue wickedly caressed the inside of his mouth until Draco was dizzy with the delight of it. The heat between them seemed to rise and rise with every soft nip, lick and slide. 

Draco rutted against the heaviness and warmth of Harry. He felt himself melt into the sensation, into the exquisite soft tension between the pair of them. Their love affair was like no other relationship Draco had ever known; Harry seemed to be able to caress his very soul. Draco would have been content had their kiss have lasted forever but Harry abruptly broke their contact. 

The look his lover gave Draco was entirely impatient, unrepentant and lascivious. Harry’s green eyes were dark with need. With _hunger_. 

“-Then I’m going to have to eat until my clothes are ruined,” Harry whispered into Draco’s ear. “I’m going to eat till you have to _Evanesco_ my jeans from my body. I want you to feed me. Make me huge, Draco.”

“You’re going to be enormous,” Draco purred, smoothing a trembling hand over Harry’s sides, overcome with a sheer lust at Harry’s words. 

“_Vast_. I’ll have to tie your shoelaces with bloody magic... You’ll waddle instead of walking, Harry. You’ll pant just climbing the stairs. Get stuck in your bloody chair… Merlin. I’ll have to hold up that huge belly just to find your cock-”

Harry groaned aloud. There was nothing Harry loved to hear more than how massive he was going to become. Those tight trousers he wore were snug everywhere and Draco could see that his weighty predictions had Harry erect and excited. 

_Not that his own cock was in a less fevered state_, Draco thought. He grinned. There’d be a sizeable wet patch staining his jeans before this stuffing ended if Harry only managed half those treats. Considering his lover’s current, hedonistic mood, Draco certainly wouldn’t put that feat beyond him. 

“Feed me, Draco,” Harry demanded once more, pleading with his eyes. “Make me big.” 

Draco drank in the desperate wanton need in Harry’s face, jubilant in the knowledge that this part of Harry was his alone. This was a part of his lover that no other person had ever seen or shared. This Harry was reserved for him alone. To receive Harry’s utter trust and love was a truly intoxicating feeling, and suddenly Draco couldn’t bear to make Harry wait even a second longer. 

Draco slipped behind Harry, splaying his hands widely on the dome of his lover’s belly, ghosting his fingers lightly over the cushiony flesh. 

“Then let’s get you filled up then, love. I’ll feed you till you’re fit to burst.” 

As he continued to squeeze and rub lightly, Draco walked the pair of them back to the settee together. The air in the room felt charged; the excitement between the two men was palpable. Harry’s desperation had utterly melted away; as Draco helped Harry to lower himself onto the settee his boyfriend’s smile was wide, his green eyes shining with arousal. 

His chubby lover had quite the feast already prepared: large glasses of milk kept perfectly chilled under a stasis spell and every luxurious pudding known to wizardkind. This was a night of excess that had been prearranged and planned well in advance. Draco’s cock throbbed in response. 

“You remember your safe-word? Say it for me.” Draco stated, loading up a generous first forkful of Devil’s Chocolate Cherry Cake. He held the fork back from Harry’s open mouth, refusing to satisfy his lovers appetite until he replied. 

“Yes. _Butterscotch_,” huffed out an impatient Harry, eyes never leaving his prize. “Cake, now Draco. Please.”

“So you’ll say it if it all gets too much? If our game starts to feel too dangerous or intense?” Draco prompted. “And then we’ll stop. Immediately.”

Harry nodded, and Draco rewarded him with the cake. 

It was a glorious dessert with a crunchy top, glaze cherries, a soft whipped middle and a deletable crumbly coating, and Harry ate hungrily, moaning softly into the richness of it. Harry had his keen mouth open for a second bite almost immediately. 

“So_ greedy_, Potter,” Draco teased. “You didn’t look like you even tasted that at all.” 

Harry only grunted a response, swallowing the second proffered bite. Draco could see that his beloved was focussed, single-minded on the task at hand. Harry liked to eat as much as he could before his brain registered how full he was and his body started to rebel. 

Draco licked a smear of the icing off his finger. The Chocolate Cherry Cake was terribly opulent; designed to be savoured. Harry was certainly enjoying himself. The first quarter was gone and his corpulent lover hadn’t even broken a sweat. 

“Bigger mouthfuls,” grunted Harry. “Still hungry.” 

Draco laughed, shaking his head in mock-disaproval. He loaded up the fork with a creamy mound of cake and held it aloof. He motioned to Harry for a kiss, and was rewarded with slick, sweet lips pressed against his own. Searing hot and chocolaty, the intimate touch sent a thrill of desire rolling though Draco’s body, but he pulled back before intensifying their kiss. The very last thing he wanted was to distract Harry from the delicious task at hand. 

Draco granted Harry’s wish and pushed the overloaded fork into Harry’s mouth. 

It really was a gigantic portion: Draco was treated to the obscenity that was chocolate dripping and smearing over Harry’s chin and lips as he chewed, bravely battling the syrupy dessert. The sheer gluttony made Draco light-headed with arousal. 

Over the next few minutes Draco fed Harry forkful after heavy forkful, filling his lovers mouth until the cake had nearly vanished. Harry was working on instinct; chewing, swallowing, and opening wide, safe in the knowledge that he was swelling bigger with every taste. Only when the box was empty did Draco cast a _Scourgify_, cleaning up the smears and stains that his weighty lover had managed to coat himself with. 

The familiar tingle of Draco’s magic seemed to wake Harry from his stupor, and he shifted a tad uncomfortably, belching softly into a closed fist. Draco leant in to kiss Harry, pressing a light kiss onto Harry’s cherubic, pink-tinged cheek. 

“_Mmmn_,” Draco admired. “You should see yourself. You’re doing so well, Harry. Going to balloon with all this cake. You’ll need a whole new set of clothes... Going to wobble whenever you walk.” 

He settled his hand to rest on the curve of Harry’s belly. It was warm and rotund but not too tightly stretched yet. Harry swallowed heavily, burping occasionally while Draco started rubbing and caressing, coaxing Harry’s belly to accept and digest the Chocolate Cake.

“That feels so good,” Harry murmured, undulating and wiggling under Draco’s attentions. “You always make me feel divine.”

“You _are_ divine. Every inch of you is divinely beautiful. How is that belly feeling? Ready for a little break yet?” Draco asked, stroking a loving finger over Harry’s wide chin. “You’re not pacing yourself enough.” 

Harry smirked, patting his jiggling gut. “Don’t want to pace myself. What’s my next treat?” 

Harry’s next treat was an Elven Hazelnut and Caramel Meringue Cake. Draco hurriedly sliced the thick, gooey dessert while Harry looked on with an indulgent, loving gaze. He was starting to look a bit red in the face, so Draco took the opportunity to stall their play for a moment; nuzzling the musky skin at the side of Harry’s neck and nipping a little at the tender flesh. 

“Your attempts at beguilement are _very_ nearly working,” Harry rumbled, his voice gruff and needy, “but there’s a Meringue Cake, and I want to eat all of it.” 

Draco reluctantly shifted, a rueful smile on his face. He’d quite forgotten who was distracting who. 

Draco picked up the milk and held up the straw for Harry to take a long, drawn-out swallow and nestled the Meringue between their bodies for easy access. Harry shifted and arched in his seat, obviously uncomfortable in those ill-filling jeans. Draco simply loved the sight. He could only imagine how the flush, bloated skin would roll when it was finally released…

“If you want to stop you only have to say the word,” Draco reminded, tearing off a piece of Meringue and hand-feeding it to his lover. He’d decided to disperse with the fork; choosing instead to push the sugary feast straight into Harry’s waiting mouth. 

Draco teased his feedee, making him lean forward to take the food from Draco’s waiting fingers. Draco’s cock twitched and leaked as Harry’s mouth enveloped his fingertips, a delicate suction gently stealing the food before he pulled back to chew. The two men groaned in unison, wrapped up completely in their glorious game. 

As soon as Harry had swallowed, Draco was tearing off larger portions, holding them to Harry's mouth to be consumed as soon as his mouth was empty. 

Beads of sweat were dotting Harry’s forehead, and he shifted and squirmed on the spot. Draco knew that the skin on Harry’s tummy must have started to itch and burn; the stretch and expansion had been rapid and extreme this session. 

Harry’s gut had certainly grown. It was visibly distended now, and Draco rubbed slow, careful swirls all over the solid top curve.

How Draco _loved_ this moment. 

He loved to watch his Harry’s discomposure grow as the heavy pressure of the food started to steadily make itself know. Loved to watch Harry filling and swelling, but still nowhere near ready to stop. Loved to see his discomfort as the volume of sweet, heavy food really started to settle. 

Harry ate on though, gobbling down nine, twelve, _fifteen_ mouthfuls. His beauty was still opening his mouth wide for Draco, but he couldn’t help but notice that every bite seemed to be taking slightly longer. Harry’s breath had deepened; he sounded slightly ragged. Each morsel was being swallowed more thickly than the one before. 

Draco fed Harry the very last piece of the Meringue Cake, and paused, pressing a finger across Harry’s sticky lips. 

“Time to slow down?” Draco asked his luscious feedee. “You’ve already put away a few thousand calories, love… You’ll be _pounds_ heavier tomorrow-”

Harry shook his head, eyes hazy and dark at the prospect of their weight-in, of those numbers that had so dependably risen since that first sweet treat so many months before. Harry sucked hungrily at Draco’s fingerstips, licking off the crumbs of meringue and greasy whipped cream with idle twirls of a pink tongue. Draco felt his breath hitch, and he slowly withdrew the fingers. 

“Still famished then?” Draco murmured, offering Harry the straw. “Drink now, please. It’s Banoffee Pie next. And I want to see you eat the entire thing.” 

He gave Harry’s belly an affectionate squeeze. Harry made a small, pained hiss as he finished drinking, burping twice in quick succession. As the liquid settled he hiccuping wetly, and Draco cast a couple of light cushioning spells around Harry’s middle. That tummy had to be so tight and painful by now. 

But Harry wanted to continue eating, so Draco didn’t hesitate to provide. 

He fed Harry the Banoffee Pie, and watched Harry eat with a sigh of contentment. Three bites became four, eight became nine and soon it was eighteen, nineteen, twenty. 

Harry jerked suddenly in his seat, arching his back and thrusting his belly forward. A massive belch ripped the first staining button from his shirt, popping it halfway across the room. Draco felt a thrust of desire rush straight to his cock while Harry flushed red, belching once more with thrilled mortification. 

“You look so bloated, Harry,” croaked Draco. His own prick was so hard that it was threatening to pop a button of its very own. “Bulging out of your shirt. Getting far too big to move there, love. I’ll have to levitate you into bed-”

“Feed me, Draco,” Harry begged. “Please. Make me so big.”

“_Bigger_,” Draco laughed. “You’re been doing rather well already.” 

Draco shovelled more Banoffee Pie into Harry’s mouth. His lovely chublet was opening for more before he’d even swallowed and a thick trickle of toffee dripped from Draco’s hand, decorating the curve of Harry’s belly. The sight was obscene, lewd and utterly sexy. 

Twenty-six bites of Banoffee Pie became twenty-seven. As the dish neared its end Harry paused, raising a hand to sit on the arch of his belly. 

“Need a minute,” Harry gasped. Draco looked on appreciatively at his lover. He was finding Harry increasingly hard to resist. 

Harry was fidgeting, burping and struggling. His lips were sticky; Merlin, Harry’s whole _face_ was sticky. His cheeks were glowing and he looked about as wrecked and wanton as Draco had ever seem him. 

Unable to pause even a second longer, Draco leaned over and undid the top two buttons on Harry’s shirt. He slipped his hands beneath, running them all over Harry’s butter-soft, sensitive pecs. Draco pinched slightly at the peaked nipples, and then moved his hands downwards to massage every expanse of Harry’s stomach. 

Forcing himself to focus his magic, Draco wandlessly vanished Harry’s shirt, trousers and underwear, letting the full bloom of his belly spill out in a joyful wave. It was the most magnificent sight he could imagine. 

Draco moved in to press warm, open mouthed kisses all over the extravagant swell of Harry’s belly. The skin was taut and the cakes lay heavily under the skin, giving Harry a hard, round stomach beneath his soft layer of velvety chub. The angle was difficult and Draco kissed, licked and nibbed as far as he could, before slipping off the settee. 

_Ah_, thought Draco, fuzzy and dazed with desire, _here_ was his resplendent darling. The Harry that was reserved for him alone. 

He knelt on the floor between Harry’s legs and took his beloveds belly in both hands, worshipping it with every fibre of his being. Draco jiggled it gently, nipped the soft underbelly and kissed and idolised everywhere his mouth could reach; an unfeigned man in love. He dipped his tongue into Harry’s belly-button, licking and nibbling, probing at its depth, exploring its clenched tight walls. Draco’s cock was stiff, an aching tent in his trousers, and he palmed himself shamelessly, utterly unsure if he’d ever been so turned on before in his life. 

“_Salazar_… Draco. Your fucking mouth-” Harry was moaning, his words inarticulate with sheer enjoyment. The thick, lightly slurred quality of his words made Draco realise that he’d taken that last piece of Banoffee Pie while Draco was otherwise engaged and shovelled it secretly into his mouth. 

“Such a glutton,” muttered Draco into Harry’s skin, the provocation of his impertinent feedee making him nearly blind with lust. For a tiny revenge Draco jiggled Harry’s belly a little harder, causing hiccups, rumbles and belches galore. There’d been nothing innocent about Harry’s secret snacking: Draco simply adored worshipping Harry’s belly whilst he stuffed himself silly. 

“Take another drink,” Draco demanded, holding the milk up to Harry’s thankful lips. There wasn’t much left in the glass, and the wizard polished it off with a quiet burp. 

Draco turned his attention back to Harry’s belly, lifting the pliable underbelly, moulding it with two careful palms before letting it fall with a soft wobble.

“You look so good like this. _Naked_. Revelling in your pleasure,” Draco murmured, pausing for a moment before he added: “and you know I love you.”

“I love you too, prat.” Harry closed his eyes. “So, so much. I feel massive.”

“You _look_ massive. Time to finish?” Draco kissed an affectionate line across Harry’s inner thigh. “I’ll run you a potion bath, loosen up that big tank of yours. I can stasis spell the desserts-” Draco gave Harry’s belly a playful pinch. 

“No. I want a bit more… Your belly kisses do seem to have done the trick.”

Chocolate Buttermilk Cupcakes with Mascarpone were Harry’s final indulgence. Draco opened the box, spreading it wide on the settee for his lovers delectation. He refilled the milk, and made sure that Harry took another good drink. 

And, once Harry was happily chewing, Draco slipped back to kneel between his legs. 

“Budge yourself forward,” Draco demanded. “And don’t you dare stop eating. You stop eating, and I’ll stop encouraging.” 

He spelled Harry’s thickened thighs a touch lighter and started to give them the attention they’d so far been lacking. Draco kissed the supine, satiny flesh, biting licking and nibbling with sinful intent. He was quite aware of the sensitivity of Harry’s skin there, and he teased with his teeth, always going for the plumpest parts. There were some attractive little stretch marks littering Harry’s upper legs and Draco made sure they came in for some extra care. 

_There really wasn’t a place on earth more heavenly than the inside of Harry’s thighs_. The warmth curve of Harry’s underbelly lay heavily against Draco’s face as he finally took Harry’s overeager cock in his mouth.

His lover even had to scoop up a handful of his big belly, holding it aloof so that Draco could really get in close and swallow Harry down to the back of his throat. It was a salacious, fleshy display. 

Draco had his rotund sweetheart moaning in moments. Fellating Harry was pure bliss, and Draco loved the musky sweet taste of him. He loved the weight of him on his tongue and how undone Harry so quickly became. Draco held Harry’s body close, his hands firmly grasping handfuls of plushy hips.

Harry was noisy; lewd sounds escaped unbidden from his throat. Draco knew exactly what got Harry’s blood buzzing and had he have carried on, there was no doubt his darling would climax within minutes. Draco, however, wasn’t so eager to rush. 

When Harry made a stuttering moan, Draco pulled away, leaving Harry’s cock bobbing in the air, spit slicked and red. He found Harry’s gaze with a smirk, motioning towards the empty dessert boxes. 

“Warned you, Potter. _You_ stop eating. _I_ stop encouraging.” 

Harry picked up a Cupcake, pressing it to his own lips with a grimace. Draco watched as he forced it in, eyes screwed tightly closed. Draco knew he was mischievous but this sight was so tempting. Harry had to be hurting now, his belly rock hard and tumescent. His lover chewed slowly, opening his eyes as he forced the gloopy richness down his throat. 

“Draco, love.” Harry’s wide green eyes begged, his hair a mussy, sweaty mess. “Please-”

“Just one more, Harry. Then I’ll _know_ you’ve tried your best… But if you want to say your safe-word you know you can. It’s your choice.”

Draco gave Harry’s slit a gentle lick to spur him on, and tickled Harry’s taint for good measure. Draco reached up then, caressing Harry’s belly while his lover chewed and swallowed. 

Draco could see that eating had become an increasingly arduous task: Harry was so full that he’d bowed his back, jutting his stomach out to try and gain precious millimetres of room.

Burps and belches accompanied Harry’s every move, and as Draco engulfed his cock once more, the other man tried valiantly to buck his hips- _desperate_ for friction- but wasn’t able to. Harry was pinned under his own bulk, quite unable to move. 

Harry was simply glutted; overladen with desserts, an unrepentant feedee who came to orgasm with a loud shout of Draco’s name. His whole body writhed with the effort of coming. Harry had to be close to his limit by now. 

Draco swallowed, unwilling to let his lover’s cock go quite that easily. It was only when Harry whispered his name in a shaking voice, that he eventually pulled away. Draco placed a final open-mouthed kiss to Harry’s angelic inner thigh, and stared at his lover, heart awash with love.

Draco took in Harry’s obliterated form. His wide body was dewy with sweat, and Harry’s whole torso was flushed a deep rosy pink. His beautiful- vast, audacious, _compelling_\- belly rose and fell as he struggled to catch his breath. Harry’s head was tipped backwards, mouth open. Aftershocks from his climax still rolled over his features. Harry was drunk on his pleasure. 

“You’ve no idea how extraordinary you look right now,” Draco husked out, standing on wobbly legs to sit beside his lover. “You’ve been amazing tonight. A fucking deity. You’ve pushed your limits so hard. And I don’t want you to hurt yourself-”

“So... gorgeous,” Harry replied, huffing out each word with pained effort. “You’re so... so careful with me. I love that.” He hiccuped, laying a fond hand on his wide waist. “Feed me,” he asked raggedly. “I… I haven’t used my safe-word yet.”

Draco’s felt his cock respond to Harry’s plea. His lover had trampled all over his previous boundaries; his belly was huge and as hard as stone. Harry’s gut was fucking _audible_ too: grumbling complaints filled Draco’s ears whilst he rubbed and comforted. Harry’s body was fighting to digest. He’d never before eaten so much in such a short time. 

Harry looked at Draco through wide, wanting eyes. 

“Feed me,” Harry urged. He opened his mouth, and Draco picked up the final Chocolate Buttermilk Cupcake, considering the treat in his hand. 

The treat was heavy, moist and rich: a good fit for his prince, and despite his reservations, he began to feed it to Harry. The bigger man chewed and swallowed willingly, but Draco could see Harry was really starting to struggle. He sighed heavily between bites, grunting gently before belching and groaning. 

“Just one more bite,” Draco coaxed. “One more bite and you’re done, love. You’re the greediest wizard in the whole world-” Draco rubbed slow, reassuring shapes into Harry’s belly, and after a few seconds Harry opened his mouth once more. 

Harry let out a nauseated moan through the Cupcake, letting the dessert sit in his mouth while he took deep faltering breaths. Draco knew that Harry was struggling to fill his lungs with air: his body was packed tighter than a goblin in a vault. Draco was just about to use their safe-word himself, call off that very last bite when Harry paused, snorted and- ultimately- swallowed. 

Once the Cupcake was safely ensconced in Harry’s belly, his beloved let out a thick, long moan. Harry was as swaggering, satisfied, relieved and smug as a feedee could possibly be, and Draco was utterly captivated. He didn’t think he’d ever been prouder of his Harry. 

Draco cautiously lifted Harry’s hands from the curve of Harry’s belly, and replaced them with his own. With every ounce of his love Draco caressed, drawing smooth and wonderful shapes over every distended inch. Draco_ Accio’d_ powerful potions that he’d invented solely for this very moment; a potion that would allow Harry’s stomach to stretch comfortably and widely, and a potion that blocked the indigestion that tonight’s festivities that would surely have produced. 

“Who’d have known,” smiled Draco, pressing warm kisses against his lover’s hair “that Harry Potter would turn out to be such a glutton? You’re nearly _twice_ the man you used to be. Can’t wait to see the damage on the scales tomorrow. I’ll fuck you till you bloody _bounce_-”

“You love it,” Harry muttered, his voice heavy and tired. “Love every inch.” He yawned, the desserts finally starting to catch up with him. Draco held the milk up, and Harry sipped a final, exhausted taste. His face turned thoughtful. 

“I meant what I said, love… In that letter. You see the real me.” Harry patted his belly. The potion was starting to work and it jiggled enticingly. “Nobody else has ever seen me like this. Made me feel loved. Understood what I really needed.”

“And I hope nobody else ever will,” Draco brushed his, and Harry’s lips together. “Come on love. You’re absolutely podged. Lets walk you up to bed…”

Harry winced. “_Butterscotch_,” he rumbled quietly. “No can do, I’m afraid. I’m beached, love. Stuck. These feet are never going to carry me… If you want me off this settee you’re going to have to use magic.”

~@~

Nearly half an hour later Draco helped a huffing, groaning and sweating Harry onto their bed. It’d been quite the effort. As the stomach stretching potion took effect Harry seemed to grow and widen, his inches spreading elegantly across their bed.

It was astonishing how bloated the man seemed to become as the minutes passed, his belly immense, nestled like a gift upon their crumpled sheets. 

Draco stripped, and helped Harry onto his side. He spooned against Harry’s back, rocking his body gently against the rolls and curves. His chubby sweetheart was soon snoring: overstuffed and innocent, his belly still grumbling tunefully. 

_What a gift tonight had been_, Draco decided as he closed his eyes. Tomorrow night he really was going to give the _Prophet_ a story, one they’d declare loudly from the very front page. He was going to take Harry to the most popular restaurant on Diagon Alley, get down on one knee and tell his beloved all the words that had danced on the edge of his tongue the entire evening. 

“_Marry me Harry. Let me share your journey. Let me love you, feed you and adore you forever_.”

Draco slipped into sleep, his hands drawn around Harry’s wide belly, safe in the knowledge that his life truly couldn’t be better.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading xxxx


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